


Smoke

by ShearaGoldwing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 03:56:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShearaGoldwing/pseuds/ShearaGoldwing





	Smoke

Chris had been a smoker since he’d been a teenager. His friend had introduced him to it and he’d never left the habit behind. He wasn't an addict. He had never NEEDED it. There were just some nights when things were too much and he needed to relax somehow. His wife had known. She’d disapproved heartily and refused to let him use it inside. Always made him go outside or somewhere else but she never let him do it in the house. Thankfully Allison hadn't figured it out yet. In truth Chris had never seen any harm in the occasional hit of marijuana. If Allison ever took up smoking of any sort he would rather she use weed instead of cigarettes. At least they wouldn't kill her slowly.

He mentioned this belief to Victoria once. She’d made him sleep out in a hammock they’d had on the porch of a previous house in a previous town whose name had been lost in the haze of years past and disinterest in remembering for almost two months before she’d let him back in the house. He’d never brought it up again.

These days he was finding that reaching for the lighter and the joint stuck up on the top shelf of the bookshelf was becoming dangerously habitual every few nights. Tonight Allison was gone. Following behind the bus to a lacrosse game. She wouldn't be back until very late or the next day. So Chris took advantage of the empty apartment and the time he knew he had and lit his joint and relaxed on the couch, inside.

He felt the tension bleed from his shoulders and neck at the first burn of the smoke in his lungs. Time passed slowly and all too fast. Before he realized it he was waking up, stretched out on the couch, hands bound above his head.

The ease that had infiltrated his body with the smoke dissipated as he struggled against the duct tape briefly before strong hands pressed his hips still.

“Calm down. You’ll just hurt something, probably yourself.” Peter. Of course it was him.

“What are you doing here?”

Peter’s grin stretch wide, his teeth blunt, non-threatening, “I came to see you. I didn't realize that our resident hunter was such a druggie. Does your daughter know?”

Chris twisted his trapped hips slightly and managed to twist his right leg enough to give the werewolf a firm knee between his legs. The snarl and dig of sharpening claws threatened to leave some nasty new scars in his hips were worth the momentary pain to see the look and the werewolf's face. Peter lost his smirk and he pushed himself up, off the hunter.

Chris twisted, trying to tear through the thick tape that kept his arms pinioned. He lost some of the hair on his wrists but the tape held firm. Before he could roll off the couch for better leverage Peter had returned. Straddling his thighs the werewolf leaned forward, pressing his elbows into the hunters collarbone. “Ah, ah, ah, not so fast Chris. You don’t want to miss the fun now.” Peter leaned back and pulled Chris’ lighter and a joint from his pants pocket.

The scent of the paper and plant catching fire and the smoke just beginning to waft from the tip made the hunter’s muscles relax and his heart rate slow. Peter drew in a long breath and held it deep in his lungs. The werewolf leaned forward once more and pressed his lips to Chris’, breathing out slowly.

This wasn't the first time Chris had shotgunned a joint. It wasn't even the first time he’d done it with a man. Especially not with this man. He parted his lips enjoying the sense of weightlessness seeping into his body, the normal burn of hot smoke gone. When Peter pulled back Chris breathed out a thin stream of smoke, taking another hit from the proffered joint, letting his head loll back onto the arm of his couch, duct taped wrists utterly forgotten. A low growl from above him prompted the hunter to crack his eyes slightly taking in the sight of Peter sliding his jacket off, glowing eyes fixed on the man below him. Jacket discarded Peter set to work on the buttons of Chris’ shirt. He had the patience to undo exactly two of them before losing patience and simply ripping the damned thing open.

His skin still tasted of salt and earth even after all this time.

He ran his tongue over the roughened ridge of an old scar, tracing it’s length up the hunters stomach to his sternum and biting. Not hard, no fangs, just hard enough to make the man gasp and arch into him, raising a small mark. He takes his time exploring, nipping, tasting, teasing soft, breathless moans from the hunter below him. The stubble covering the man’s jaw is surprisingly soft and Peter takes absolute pleasure in rubbing his cheeks and lips over the hair, marveling at how different it was compared to his own stiff, slightly scratchy facial hair. He’d have been perfectly happy to continue but when Chris turned and dipped his head slightly, claiming Peter’s lips in a lazy kiss the werewolf lost interest in the rest of the hunter. His lips were rough, chapped, and Peter ran his tongue over them briefly before returning with the same slow, lazy pace as the hunter below.

There was no rush. They never needed to with each other. Even years later, after fires, and deaths, and pain, and betrayal, they never needed to rush. They were together.

A shared joint freed them from their present and let them slide back to their past. Where long summer days were passed with slow kisses and hot smoke.

......

Chris fell back into himself like a lead brick. His eyes snapped open and flinched at the absolute darkness. It was late. But not nearly as dark as he’d thought. Faint light from outside trickled in and the room was slow to come into focus. His shoulders hurt... and there was a heavy weight on his chest.

Once his eyes had adjusted as well as they could Chris chanced a look down at the rest of himself only to be met with a thick nest of black hair resting just below his chin. He reached up and brushed the tangled mess away from his lips and took a good look at the man on top of him.

Peter. Fast asleep and bare, curled around and over him. Chris lifted his right arm and examined his now bald wrist. Peter must have ripped the duct tape off before falling asleep. The hunter lay still for a long moment before sighing softly and dragging and old afghan over their naked bodies and tugging the werewolf into a position where he wasn't lying on Chris’ bad hip as heavily. Peter stirred briefly, stretching his legs and reaching his arm out, over the hunters chest and pulling him unconsciously closer.  
They could have one night. Tomorrow was a different story.


End file.
